Ignored

Woo, new chapter! I hope you enjoy it. In this chapter, Clove gets a bit more angry and vicious. So watch out. I also threw in some sappiness at the end, because who doesn't love a little bit of Clato fluff sometimes?

Please let me know what you think, and enjoy!

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Pentha smiles as I sit beside her, “Busy day, so eat up.” She gestures to the heaps of food in front of us, and I grab a crumpet. It makes me feel homely, Mother would pile them up on plates, usually on the morning of the reaping. Cato plods in, his blonde hair sticking up in all directions. I frown.
“Hey.” I mumble, stuffing more crumpet in my mouth. He nods at me sternly, with a cold, expressionless face. Suddenly, the food doesn’t seem digestible. I must have imagined last night, his kind words, his body heat next to mine.
After a long silence, Pentha spoke again.
“Well, you two. I guess we’ll just eat up and head back to the remake center, alright?” I nod once and stare into my plate.
“I’m not hungry.” I mumble, and push my chair away from the table. I glare at Cato, but he doesn’t even look up from his food. I look back at Pentha, who’s examining my face carefully. I take a breath, swallow my mouthful and walk out.

“What was I thinking?” I scream and kick the bed, hard. Another mattress flies out of the side; seems like I pressed a button. I screech again and grab a plant pot, with the plan in mind to throw it into the window, when Ailie bursts through the door.
“What’s with all the racket?” She asks as she conveys the damage, not that there is much. I go through an answer in my head: Oh, my district partner acts all nice and kind, then decides to blank me. I may have even considered him finding me attractive, but clearly not.
“I don’t know, I guess I’m just nervous.” I look down at the carpet and attempt to stay calm.
“Of course you are. But we have to go and meet your stylist now, come on. You’ll be alright if you can kick like that.” She points at the broken drawers, a slight smile on her lips. I nod and let her lead me out of the apartments.

“Clove, isn’t it?” An orange man with purple dreadlocks extends his hand. I nod and take it, “You’re rather beautiful now there’s no hair on your body.” He laughs.
“Uh, thank you.” I try for a smirk, feeling a little more confident with these strange people than when I first arrived at the Capitol.
"My name is Lucius, and I am your stylist. I take it you were pleased with the prep team?" His thick Capitol accent is so slimy, it makes me feel nauseous.
"Yeah, they managed to make me look better than I did, and I guess that's their job, right?" Another smirk. I feel a bit more normal again.
"Indeed. Now, tonight we're going to show you off to all the sponsors, and to do that, we need to blow all competition completely out of the water. And we have designs that will do exactly that." His words give me a slight boost of confidence. I know from past Games that he and Cora, his partner in crime, have produced some of the best parade outfits there have ever been.
"Which are?"
"Well, we've been inspired by two things. Firstly, Cato's strength and your skill. You are Careers, after all. Also, your District. It's the District of Masonry, so we want you to look big, intimidating, and with a strong structure." He laughs at his own little joke, his eyes sparkling. I feel my face twist into something I can only refer to as delight.

“You look lovely, stop worrying.” Lucius clearly spots me looking into the mirror again. He’s just finished my makeup and I feel more cakey than I ever have in my life. Back at home, I would wear a single layer, and only on important days, such as the reaping. Makeup is hard to come by, but not in the Capitol.
“Sorry.” I smile sarcastically and pull my hair out of my face. Lucius grabs it.
“This shouldn’t take long, I’ve been practicing.” He grins and brushes my hair with a sharp comb. I stare into the mirror as he fiddles with it for a second, then twists it up onto my head carefully, letting locks hang loose at the sides. I look a lot taller when he’s finished.
“Thanks.” I mumble and crane my neck, trying to see the back as well. He shows it to me with another mirror, and I see that it’s intricately braided and twisted in such a way that I look naturally tall. Cato’s not going to be happy. Not that he is anyway.
“And now for your dress.” He looks at me expectantly and I remove my papery gown, blushing again. I don’t know how they manage to feel comfortable around their stylists and prep team. Though they’ve probably been doing it for years, and I’ve only been stripping for strangers for a day. Lucius removes a large bag from a hanger, and unzips it with ease, revealing a dress. I gasp and reach out to touch it. Is it real? Am I allowed to wear it?
“That’s just amazing.” I feel my stare soften as he pulls it out of the bag and helps me into it. He spins me around, then points at the mirror. I glance over at it and do a double take. I look like someone else again.
My hair is piled on top of my head, which is held proudly. The makeup on my face disguises any flaws, any pain, any fear. My eyelashes are extended with a strange black paint, out to the side. I have plump pink lips and rounded cheeks. I look healthy and glowy with my fresh skin and clean hair. After the hair-plucking situation yesterday, my eyebrows have been shaped sternly, shaping my face. Not that I even notice any of that. My dress is more attractive. It comes to my ankles, and is a tight, silvery thing. I have small wings in my hair, which match the feathered pattern, made from lace, covering my back. As I turn, the dress shimmers. Although it’s very pretty, it also looks very dangerous. Paired with heels, I feel tall and overpowering. The dress itself is oddly heavy, and when I look down at it, I discover that it is infact made of a rather stiff material, which I think is a manmade fibre. I really do feel well structured.
“You look beautiful, Clove. You’ll blow them away. Now, let’s meet Cato and Cora, yes?”

“Oh, isn’t this just fabulous?” Lucius’ partner, Cora, stands next to Cato. Her skin the same shade as Lucius’, her eyes a strange shade of purple, she could be an alien. Pentha jumps about from side to side, noting down things that I can’t see, glaring at the other tributes. Hallien and Lysander look quite bored, stood next to the chariot. I sigh and look over at Cato. Only then I feel a terrible wave of something, a feeling that I don’t think should fit in me right now. It reminds me slightly of the way my Mother used to look at Father, before he stopped being so... Crap. No, no, this isn’t happening to me.
I’ve fallen in love with my tribute partner.
I smile, trying to look natural and confident. I can’t let this revelation show, especially since we are surrounded by the other tributes. I look away from Cato and over at the others. Glimmer waves when I catch her eye, and I smirk in return. Marvel looks positively thrilled to see me, which is kind of worrying. The girl from 12, Katniss, is stood with the blonde boy. They both look terrified, which pleases me somewhat. The ginger kid from 5 looks quite calm, which is surprising, since she’s dressed in something even I wouldn’t want to wear. It’s a big, silver thing. Thing. Yes, that is the only word to describe it. I hear a cough from beside me.
“You need to get onto the chariots in a minute, we’re nearly ready to start.” Lucius mutters. I look back at Cato, and take in his outfit for the first time. It’s made from the same material as mine, tight-fitting and silver. He looks amazing in it, his blonde hair gelled back, mostly obscured with a large silver helmet, complete with wings. The tight tunic is cut short, showing his muscle. I inwardly kick myself when I find myself staring at it, knowing that he could use his arms to crush my skull during the games. He has large trousers, which are tucked into huge, pointed metal boots, which have spikes on the side. I look around desperately for a knife, then reality hits me. He’s not trying to kill me. Yet.

“What were you even thinking when you designed this? You idiot!” I find myself screaming into Lucius’ face, drawing quite a few stares from the other tributes. Cora looks annoyed, but I am happy to find that Lucius looks scared witless. I grab his collar, “Were you expecting me to stand perfectly still? Did you think that I would be used like a mannequin and put into some stupid, happy stance on this chariot? Did you maybe think that I wouldn’t need to get up onto it? Or not balance, maybe?” My words are spitty and cruel, and for a moment, I feel like I finally have some sort of control over someone from the Capitol, not the usual of the other way around.
“No, I just -”
“Clove, just calm down.” It’s the first time Cato has spoken to me all day, and I let go of Lucius in shock.
“Well what do you suggest, then? That I stand about, worried for my life that I’m going to fall off that thing?” I find my words sharper than I expected, and don’t care. I gesture to the chariot behind me and try to hide the wave of nausea. I don’t want to fall off it. At all.
“Just lean on me or something.” He growls, and I flush red.
“What?” I snarl back, trying not to sound confused. He rolls his eyes and gets into the chariot casually, then extends his arms.
“I’ll help you up, come on.” He motions for me to step forward, and I do. I feel his arms wrap around my waist and I’m overcome by the comfort of it. He lifts me up into the chariot, despite my loud noises of distaste and anger, “There you go. Now, just lean on me so you can wave to the crowd. Just don’t make it look like we’re a team or anything, alright?” He looks into my eyes for a second, and I try to memorise the shade, the light, glistening blue. He spins his head away as the chariot starts forward. I rest myself on his arm slightly, and I see Lysander give us the thumbs up. Looks like we made it work. I just hope that I manage to stay stationary.
“What, do we wave at them?” My words spill out of my mouth faster than they process through my brain; we’re moving forward and the roar of the crowd grows closer.
“Yeah. Try and get attention. Look good, basically. Though I don’t think that you need to try hard to do that.” I frown and look up at him when he compliments me again, but his face is a mask of calm, collected anger. I think he’s getting ready to face the madness that is the crowds ahead of us. As the colours of the Capitol reach us, I switch back into tribute mode. My eyes narrow and I wave with a cocky attitude, still leaning lightly on Cato’s arm. I catch a red rose and smile, blowing a kiss in the direction that it came from, and getting a roar of approval in response. They call my name. They call Cato’s name. They cheer for us and throw more and more roses and hats. I laugh loudly and carry on waving. Then, all of a sudden, the crowd goes silent. Then it starts to scream, yell, shout with joy and impression. I wonder if it’s aimed at us, hoping that it is, before I catch a glance at the large screens hung around us.
They’re not screaming our names. They’re not cheering for us. Not anymore. Because another district has stolen the spotlight.
Because District 12 are on fire.

Reviews

[RachelKim]

Oh myy goodness...I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO SAY!!! IT'S SOO GOOD!!>,